The Cut: A Prison Story

“Good looking out, yo.”

I held my head down reading the last of the letter from home. I tried not to cheese up or look over at the cot where Angelo was stretched out shirtless and in gray sweats looking sleepy eyed at me but following along with the story playing on the radio. I got stuck with the only nigga in The Cut that can spring for a radio, and the last thing he wanted to do was play music. “Nah, I don’t fiend for that garbage them niggas wanna listen to!” On occasion, he might play some country. R&B after 11pm, after the slowjams flushed out the latest hits and he wanted to get it on to some old school. Mostly, we listen to the different philosophies of talk radio throughout the day, and, in the evening, he’d change the dial to the station that play Twilight Zone radio dramas.

“What’d you say?” Angelo asked after one of the stories playing on the radio came to an end.

“I was saying ‘Thank you,’ yo.”

This was the second letter from Momma telling me she lucked up on another stack of bands on her doorstep. A band is another street name for G. And a G, in money, a thousand with Momma lucking up on more than ten bands already.

“For what?”

“For this, yo,” I said waving the letter in the air. He knew what I meant.

“See, what’d I tell ya. A man like me treats his girl g-double o-d, good!”

“I know, yo. You my man. You treat me real good and break me off propa.”

“Most niggas get into heavy hitter debt taking care of themselves in here much less taking care of loved ones on the outside. That pussy so phyre though, you’re free and clear after you’re done in here. That’s saying a lot for momma to pocket $15k tax free plus what I spend on you in commissary to keep my girl fly.”

“Yes siree!” I cheesed.

It can be said Angelo turned me out ‘cause we came to an understanding: He was my man. I was his girl without being a girl. I brought him breakfast every morning. I kept his clothes washed and pressed every day. I did what I was told, and I drained his balls whenever he wanted.

“Come on over here so we can chill.”

I knew what that meant.

Angelo wasn’t lying. He was insatiable!

Even when I thought he couldn’t go harder, he became more affectionate once my bruises started to heal. And when I convinced him to get somebody to sneak in some flavored lube for him, I had no trouble tongue-bathing his dick. No rag needed—though I treated him to it anyway ‘cause the heated water gave him a really nice post-nutt finish.

I climbed into the cot up under him with my head on his shoulder and my hand down his pants.

“Seems like the two of you became good friends, huh, Tone?” He smiled.

Angelo had the kind of pull we could fuck throughout the day and no inmate or guard or even warden could say shit about it. He didn’t give a shit if the whole POD looked on. Sometimes they did. But they better not step in and dare not touch even if I stepped out.

“Seems so, yo.” I said giving his hardened dick a firm tug.

I played with my good friend in his pants for a minute before Angelo rolled on top of me.

Angelo meant what he said. He wanted me as his girl. That meant getting on top of me, hugging and kissing me nice and slow just like a man does the girl he loves. Sometimes he’s so busy rolling me over on the cot, spinning me in it, that I find myself looking down at him, running my hands through his curly hair or straightening out his eyebrows or knocking out some of the dandruff in them.

When so, I make sure our dicks were lined up. I learned when I dug the balls of my feet into the cot, it created this crazy ill friction for the both of us and our dicks sprung leaks eternal sending tingles of delight up and down our bodies. And when done right, if enough slickness was generated between us, no lube was required for when he spent me back onto my back.  

I needed his weight on top of me. I craved it! It felt so incredible, especially as I spread my legs to invite him on in. He just slid his dick all the way in. I felt no pain. I just felt him stretch my walls welcoming the thickness of his dick. I buried my face into one of his shoulders and gripped his neck, letting him do his thing while I enjoyed the ride. The feel, the heat of him sliding in and out of my ass was pure ecstasy. He dug deeper, deeper, and I totally submitted letting his big dick rub my asshole like it rubbed it trying to get the genie out.

“You like how I treat my girl.” Thick sex stuck in his throat.

Angelo rounded out his strokes, gyrating wildly. His dick was hitting something up in me getting me hot and ready to bust.

“Shit, yo! Shit!” I murmured as my body convulsed and I busted and my ass sucked his dick deeper into me.

Angelo had me crying sometimes he felt so good. Then I stroked the back of his neck, which seemed to help him bust even harder.

As he came, I felt a pair of eyes wash over us. It was the warden stomping past us and Dirk looking like he was about to lose it.

As for me and Angelo, he fell on top of me, and as he fell asleep, I listened to one of his stories for him before I joined him in slumber.